


why nobody told you how to unfold your love

by retroflaptrill



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: "it's hard to find people with shared experience", Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Serious Crack, inspired by Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retroflaptrill/pseuds/retroflaptrill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saitou Hajime is like a dog to a bone when he wants to find out something. A wolf to a bone.</p><p>Aoshi is the bone.</p><p>They're the last of their kind. And it's hard to find people who understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So it's been ages since I wrote Rurouni Kenshin fic. This is really kind of self-indulgent, I adore Aoshi and as with all writers, we love to hurt the ones we love. So there is non-con sex between a minor and an undisclosed male character. It's not explicitly detailed, but it is described, so it would be best to avoid this if you will be triggered by it.
> 
> I think Saitou and Aoshi could be a thing. Somehow. In my mind they both get it. They both know they don't fit in and that they will never fit in. They're probably more alike than they think. I don't know if they sound themselves, I was just giving things a shot.
> 
> This is a mish-mash of both the manga and anime, I play pretty fast and loose with the ages and timelines as well as what happens after the Jinchuu arc. For this, Saitou stays in Tokyo.
> 
> Let me know if anyone actually reads this and if anyone would like to see more, thanks! <3
> 
> Trigger warning for Rape, Non-Consensual Sex, Minor.
> 
> Disclaimer: Title comes from the Beatles' song, While My Guitar Gently Weeps. The characters are not mine, I am merely borrowing them.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Aoshi just inclines his head slightly as he serves the sake and noodles. He doesn’t need to look up to know amber eyes are watching him as he places the dishes before withdrawing the tray to stand. Only when he’s standing does he allow himself to meet Saitou’s amused eyes.

“Enjoy your meal.” Aoshi inclines his head, before turning to remove himself from the policeman’s presence. The Shirobeko isn’t crowded, and there really isn’t any need for him to hurry away, but he doesn’t need Saitou’s…teasing in his life.

“Join me. It’s not like you have other work to do.” They both know Saitou’s scoped the whole place out before settling down. Aoshi holds in a sigh. He’d agreed to help out at the Shirobeko to get to know the ins and outs of service and to force himself to interact with people. Apparently he is a terrifying innkeeper and Okina has forbidden him from directly interacting with any of the Aoiya’s guests until he learns to at least pretend to be warm. Okina’s words.

“I’ll complain if you don’t at least share a few words with me.” Saitou drawls, sipping his sake. Blue-green eyes meet amber and again Aoshi has to contain his urge to sigh. Shutting his eyes briefly Aoshi allows his mind to clear of anger. Saitou is an acquaintance, occasional ally and occasional enemy.

Aoshi kneels on the tatami, tray placed next to him and raises his gaze through his bangs to meet Saitou’s eyes and waits.

“I did say a few words needed to be shared.” Saitou is smirking and Aoshi continues to watch him calmly. He knows rising to the bait while only entertain the man. “Tell me, why is the Okashira of the Oniwabanshu a wait staff at a diner?”

“I am not Okashira any longer. I am merely learning to be an innkeeper.” Aoshi intones flatly. He will always be proud, so proud of Misao. Of her strength, her resilience, her spirit. He had not been lying when he told Himura that Misao is a strong girl, she has proven herself since and will continue to prove herself time and again. He is more than happy to pass on the mantle to her. He worries, but that’s what being an onmitsu is for. He will always watch her back for her, even if she doesn’t need it.

Saitou snorts. “You’d make a terrible innkeeper.”

“Aa.”  
“I said words, Shinomori.” Saitou raises one eyebrow ever so slightly and Aoshi fights the urge to bristle.

“Indeed, I am poor at making guests feel welcome.” 

Saitou actually barks a laugh, or maybe it’s just a scoff, but either way, the man actually looks honestly amused and not just sarcastic. “I forgot you never had the chance to learn how to be a proper person.”

Aoshi knows his eyes narrow, by Saitou’s accomplished smirk. His past life is rarely spoken of, he himself hardly talks about his life. Why Saitou is bringing it up, Aoshi hasn’t the faintest idea, but he knows it’s not for a nice reason.

“You only had your four friends and the weasel girl for human interaction for the longest time. And before that, you were made Okashira at what, 13? 14? And all the onmitsu training before that. You mustn’t have had much of a childhood, much less learning how to be a person.”

“Many of us did not have good childhoods.” Aoshi manages to keep it calm, matter of fact, but Saitou is getting under his skin and Aoshi wants nothing better than to leave.

“Sure, but most of us had a childhood. You basically had none, being an orphan and all.” Saitou is studiously not looking at him, drinking his sake as if he’d hadn’t just uttered a fact Aoshi has not shared with the world.

Maybe Okina knows. After all, someone must have found him as a child and brought him into the Oniwabanshu. But he doesn’t remember who. His memories before the Oniwabanshu are filled with pain and hunger and fear. All he remembers was being picked up, and warmth and food and shelter and an offer to learn.

“How.”

“As you have your intelligence networks, I have mine.”

Aoshi breathes slowly. And lets it go. So what if Saitou knows. He bears no shame of not having had a childhood. Neither does he feel the need to hold on to the pain and suffering. It is just another fact of his life.  
“There you go. Just not feeling. I do marvel at your ability to just turn your emotions off.” Saitou is regarding him now with an almost contemplative, almost interested stare. “It also reminds me how young you are.” There it is, the smirk is back.

Before Aoshi can even deign to contemplate an answer, the Shirobeko door opens and a Kansai accent fills the room, making Aoshi supress a wince. “Looking for a Lt. Fujita. Where are you, you bastard? There you are, you didn’t say anything about company- oh.”

Aoshi rises then. “I don’t turn them off, I just accept them.” He says to Saitou before turning to Cho. “Can I get you anything?”

He tries for warm and welcoming, but Cho just looks mildly terrified and Saitou sounds like he’s choking.

“Eh. You’re. Eh.” Aoshi waits patiently as Saitou continues to choke and Cho tries to find his words. “Sake?”

“Aa.” Aoshi inclines his head one last time before going to sort the order.

He’s surprised to see Sae watching him with wide eyes. “I apologize, Ms. Sae, but I would rather not serve them their next order of sake.”

She just nods as he places the tray aside, before leaving the restaurant through the back exit. 

As he strolls back towards the Aoiya, Aoshi contemplates Saitou Hajime. The man is one of perhaps the most perplexing and irritating people Aoshi has ever met. Like Aoshi, he seems to understand that knowledge is power, probably why he took the post as lt. at the police station. But his means of obtaining information through interrogation is markedly different, and Aoshi has to admit, he is good at it. 

Doesn’t mean he isn’t infuriating. He has a way of getting under Aoshi’s skin like no one has been able to aside from Himura. Though, he must thank Himura for being infuriating. Aoshi quells the surge of cold that ripples through him at the thought of what he had done and what he had been willing to do during his…’depression’, as Misao calls it.

Aoshi passes the Aoiya, there are extra sandals at the entrance and he hears unfamiliar voices, perhaps it’s best if he didn’t enter just then. Don’t want to frighten away the guests.

Aoshi finds himself drifting to the riverside, with its railings blocking off the river. Aoshi misses the river they had walked along while on his trip to Tokyo to pick Misao up. He liked the lack of the barrier, the water flowing just a few paces away.

“Fancy seeing you again.”

Aoshi tries hard not to sigh. It’s a hard fight. He looks up and is surprised at the orange tones painting the town, he’d been walking longer than he’d thought. Saitou is a few paces ahead, smoking slowly, lazily.

“Aa.”

The officer snorts, a plume of smoke dispersing slowly, catching the last orange rays of the sun.

“How old are you now?”

Aoshi turns away from the man to face the river. “Couldn’t you find that out from your intelligence networks?”

“Hmmm. But that wouldn’t be quite as fun.” The sarcasm is almost dripping, but Aoshi can hear the almost genuine curiosity.

“I’m sure you can deduce it yourself.” Aoshi is trying to understand Saitou’s end game. Why Saitou is suddenly all over him. It’s unnerving, and most decidedly strange. And not entirely unwelcome, if he’s honest with himself. It’s been a long time since anyone has shown interest in him, much less having the guts to pursue said interest. Misao doesn’t count, she’s a given in his life.

“I want to hear you say it.” Saitou is closer now, Aoshi heard his steps among the bustle of people heading home from work. His voice is clearer, the acrid smoke sharp.

“26.” Aoshi gives in. Even that is a guess. He’s not sure how old he was when the Oniwaban took him in, and they’d had to guess based on his appearance.

“Hmmmm.” There is a pause. A plume of cigarette smoke. “You’re a 26 year old virgin then? I can’t imagine you and the weasel girl have gone at it yet.”

Aoshi doesn’t turn, but glares at Saitou from the corner of his eyes. The man is sombre but his eyes are dancing with their usual blend nasty mischief and cold calculation.

“No.”

“No, you’re not a virgin, or no, you haven’t fucked the weasel girl?”

“Don’t you have a wife and a son, with another child on the way?” Aoshi turns his gaze back to the river. He can hear when Saitou holds his inhale a fraction of a second longer in surprise. “My intelligence networks are on level with yours, if not better.”

The man snorts. “I shouldn’t have been surprised. You’re a sneaky one, Shinomori. No guest is going to believe you’re just some peaceful innkeeper. And you haven’t answered my question.”

“It is honestly none of your business.”

“I don’t think you’re a virgin. Rumour has it you were the most beautiful boy in Edo castle, so much so no one believed you were the Okashira, the damned protector of the castle.” Saitou is even closer now, an inch closer and it would be inappropriate.

Aoshi finds himself unable to say anything.

“And rumour has it you weren’t afraid to use your beauty for all your spying purposes.” Saitou’s breath is tickling his ear, and Aoshi can’t help but tense in anticipation. For a fight? A grab? A kiss? He doesn’t know.

“Did you dress up all pretty, flash some leg, some shoulder, and lead men to their slaughter? Did you lace your skin with poison and watch men writhe to their deaths after they kissed your throat? Did you spread your legs for men, then stab them in the back as they fucked you?”

“Shut up.” The words are out before Aoshi can stop them. The yukata feels too open. As if he can feel hands slipping inside, running down his sides, pushing the cloth out of the way, encircling his legs and forcing him-

Aoshi shuts down the memories and forces his breathing into a calm, measured pace.

Saitou is silently leaning against the railing, amber eyes lazily watching him.

“Not a virgin, huh?” There is no sarcasm this time, no bite, no humour. “How are you not angry with the world? Everything taken away from you. How are you not furious?”

Aoshi waits, waits till he knows his throat is calm enough, open enough to not allow his voice to shake. “I am. But there is nothing I can do about it anymore. I have accepted it.”

“Yeah? Looks like you haven’t accepted that as much as you’ve buried it away.” The cigarette is on its last dregs.

“I believe I’ve shared enough words with you.” Aoshi inclines his head once more, before turning away and heading back to his home.

He feels amber eyes burning into his back all the way.

~*~

_His head is swirling sharply, his fingers feel lax and weak, and he can feel the little cup slip out of his hands and clatter onto the floor, the last drops of liquid in them splashing and soaking into the tatami._

_“I told you he wouldn’t be able to hold it. Skinny little body like that, sake and drugs, he wouldn’t stand a chance.”_

_He wants to call for Hannya or Shikijo. It was stupid to accept the lords’ invitation to dine together and as they said ‘discuss strategies’. There are hands tugging him to lie down and Aoshi lashes out, his knuckles unerringly snapping into someone’s mouth and his foot connecting flesh. His mind may be addled, but his body remembers._

_“Fuck, hurry up and bind him. Skinny little shit is strong.”_

_“I told you not to mess with him, he’s not the fucking leader for nothing.”_

_“Just hurry up.”_

_His obi is yanked off his waist and he can feel the silken material wrap around his wrists. He wants to scream, he knows if he can just find the muscles to open his mouth, Hannya and Shikijo and Beshimi and Hyottoko will come. But he can’t. His tongue feels laden, and his lips tingling fiercely. He is confused and scared and it feels like all those years ago wandering the streets._

_Things blur after that, hands all over his body, gripping, pulling, scratching, tugging, bruising. The best he can do is swallow down his pain and humiliation. He refuses to give them the satisfaction of hearing him cry out._

_It hurts. It hurts unlike any other hurt he’s ever felt and he knows pain._

_He remembers trying to reach for his kodachi, but a foot kicks it out of reach, and then he doesn’t know which way is up or down anymore. And it hurts._

~*~

Aoshi jerks awake.

He sits up slowly. He feels cold and his breath is coming in harsh pants.

He hasn’t had this nightmare in a long time.

Damn that man Saitou.

 

~*~

“Aoshi-san, are you okay?” Ms. Sae holds out the next order of tea and sweets to him to deliver. Aoshi takes the tray, and nods. 

“Aa.” He sees her concerned frown as he turns away. He serves the tea, even managing to soften his usual gaze, if the blushing girl at the table’s reaction is anything to go by.

Aoshi is no fool. He knows he is good-looking, and his height lends to the attraction for most women. He also knows he was a beautiful young man, and he’d appealed to many men in and outside of Edo castle. But he tells himself he is not the same as he was before. He’s not sure if he’s appealing to men anymore, but he is glad he grew out of the ‘beautiful boy’ phase.

He himself is not partial to either gender. Though he can never see Misao that way, he finds women beautiful, their softer skin and brighter eyes. He also finds men beautiful, especially strong, solid men. He’d never met Seijuro Hiko, but judging by Omasu and and Okon’s spiels, he could be the sort of man to appeal to Aoshi’s tastes. Him, and maybe one police officer.

Aoshi blinks. He had not known where that had come from.

Shaking himself mentally, Aoshi bows to the diners and leaves to pick up another order. Alas, he has had no real experience with relationships. He supposes that ship has long since sailed since he cannot think of Misao as any more than a younger sister or a protégé and he sincerely doubts anyone could care enough to work through his cool exterior. And he is fine with it.

Except for one Saitou Hajime. Persistent wolf to a bone he is. Aoshi isn’t sure how he feels about Saitou’s interest in him. He knows the Shinsengumi turned police officer is interested, perhaps purely on the sexual level, but even so he isn’t sure what to do about it.

Shirobeko is busy and Aoshi tells himself to focus and forget about the ridiculousness that is his sudden relationship with Saitou.

~*~

_“Okashira. Please. All you have to do is give us affirmation and we will deal with them.”_

_The shame burns. Burns as much as Hannya tending to his injuries, Shikijo kneeling next to him, one large hand almost spanning his back. His two most trusted have not permitted anyone to see him, and he is both thankful for them and ashamed._

_“Okashira.” Hannya drapes the covers over him as Shikijo gently, so gently rubs his back as the shame and fury and fear and dirtydirtydirty overwhelms him._

~*~

Saitou had been wrong. He had friends. They may have been his subordinates, under his command but they had cared for him as friends did. They had given him precious memories, joy and comfort even in some of the darkest days and he will forever treasure them.

He aches inside. He aches to have them back. They’d understood. He may look as normal as everyone else, but Aoshi knew he would forever feel more kinship with his four men than he ever could with every other person walking by him.

The zen temple is silent around him, only the rustling of the wind through the bamboo the sound to keep him company as he tries to clear his head of his nightmares. It’s been days since his conversation with Saitou had brought them back, but he is still plagued by them and he wants them gone.

“Looks like you haven’t accepted that as much as you’ve buried it away.”

Saitou’s words ring in his head.

~*~

Aoshi never did quite find out why Saito was in Kyoto, but he finds himself wondering about the man while he makes his way to Tokyo. There are whispers of a shinobi, a ninja for hire, that said ninja is behind deaths of a few of the wealthy and powerful. Naturally, Misao had wanted to go along, but Okina had insisted she stop running around and learn to run an inn. Aoshi can almost smile at the resulting argument.

He wonders how he ever thought he could leave them.

And so he’s on this mission alone, and he quite likes it that way. Perhaps he will visit Himura, perhaps he won’t he hasn’t decided, but he’s pretty sure he will cross paths with Saito. Aoshi sticks to the shadows and back lanes and quite paths once he hits Tokyo and it’s quite amazing how people can miss him sometimes.

He makes his way to the crime scenes one by one, examining each. The victims had all died of heart failure, but Aoshi’s almost sure poison is involved somehow. He’s too late to some of the earlier murders, the places have either been cleaned, or whatever he can find is too old to determine anything from. He lucks out with the fourth murder scene, it looks like the police have just gone through the place not long ago.

Aoshi checks any cups or mugs or chopsticks in the home for poison, the slightest whiff of it would be enough. He finds none. And yet. As if in the back of his throat he can taste the toxicity of the poison, lingering in the stale house air.

“I thought I saw a shadow skulking around.”

Aoshi turns to look at the police officer who is leaning against the door frame. Smoking as usual.

“Wanna see the body?” The man’s smile is almost suggestive.

“Please.” 

Saito gestures with his head to follow him and they make their way over to the police station. Saito doesn’t say a thing their whole walk there, smoking idly and watching Aoshi, he can feel the man’s eyes on his skin.

The station morgue is in the basement and the air cool and clean. Perfect. Saito ushers the attendant away and points out the latest victim to Aoshi. He pulls back the cover and the smell of the toxin fills his nose.

“Poison. Definitely poison. Possibly pufferfish.” Aoshi tries not to inhale too much, and covers the corpse again.

“No puncture wounds.”

“It was ingested. He must have been fed tainted food. The utensils are clean and free from toxins, I can only assume the victims were fed food that had been prepared and brought by the murderer.” Aoshi does a quick check on the other victims. The more recent ones have poison lingering in their smell, but the older ones are too old to tell. He can only pray their souls rest in peace.

“Or it was licked off of skin.” Saito adds and Aoshi glances up at him. The man shrugs.

“Most poisons have to be ingested or injected to work. They don’t work on skin unless in high dosage or on abraded skin.” Saito says, and it’s things Aoshi knows, he’s just surprised Saito knows.

“Aa.”

Saito gestures with his head again and Aoshi follows him up to his office, where Cho is of course, sprawled on a couch. 

“Oi, I think I have a pattern of victims, and from there we can try and guess who they’ll hit nex –oh.” Cho cuts himself off as Aoshi walks in after Saito.

“So the diner job didn’t cut it for you, eh?” Cho teases, not unkindly, Aoshi thinks.

“I’m just here to catch this killer.”

“Oh yeah, word is it’s a shinobi, no? I guess it’s only right the Okashira of one of the greatest ninja groups is here.” Cho rambles on.

“Not Okashira any longer.” Aoshi contradicts him calmly.

“Eh. Weasel girl still ain’t got nothing on you man. The things I’ve heard you’ve done.” Cho ends with a whistle.

What is it with nosy police officers and their criminal informants and digging up his past?

“Enough, Cho. Tell us what you know.” Saito is at his desk, and Aoshi is surprised at the paperwork piled over the desk in haphazard stacks. He watches as Saito pulls one piece of paper, glances at it then puts it into another stack. Aoshi wonders if Saito really does any of the paperwork or if he just takes cases at will and solves them.

The day passes quickly as Cho shares his information with them and they figure out their plan of attack. Aoshi’s surprised when Saito agrees to his trap idea.

“We use your trap, but the shinobi gets tried and charged, no murder.” Saito warns Aoshi and Aoshi shrugs his agreement.

“Awww, I was just hoping to watch you in a fight.” Cho whines and Aoshi huffs a soft breath in amusement. The man is irritating, unbearably so, but endearing somehow.

The silence that follows is sudden and charged.

“Did you just laugh?” Cho sounds shocked and incredulous and Aoshi almost huffs again.

“Aa. Perhaps working at the Shirobeko is good for me.” Aoshi concedes.

“Was that a joke?!”

Saito’s bark of a laugh is answer enough to Cho’s question.

 

~*~

Aoshi watches from the shadows as the shinobi, a beautiful woman, is invited into the house. Aoshi watches the trap go off perfectly as the would-be victim leads him into his study. Perhaps they need to start telling rich and powerful people to stop hiding their money and important documents in their study rooms. They hadn’t warned the man, Aoshi had snuck in and set the net trap while the man had been at work and they released the trigger before the man put his mouth on the woman’s throat.

“Did you lace your skin with poison and watch men writhe to their deaths after they kissed your throat?”

He has. More than once. And it makes his skin crawl and itch to this day when he thinks about it. He’d hated those missions, but orders were orders and sometimes, this was the easiest way to get things done. He cannot forget his relief when his Adam’s apple started becoming more prominent and he couldn’t pull off quite so many of those missions anymore.

Aoshi watches as they take the woman away, her eyes flashing in fury, the man in shock and fury at not being informed that he was a target.

Aoshi can see Saito’s unbothered expression under the calm exterior as he talks the irate man down. Eventually Saito gives up and hands the man off to the Chief. 

His work is done. Aoshi leaves the shadows to start his track back to Kyoto.

“You going in the dark like this?” Saito’s voices drifts from quite a distance behind him. Aoshi sees the embers of the cigarette bobbing towards him as the man strolls into view.

“Aa.”

“Not visiting Himura?” 

“No. I am not a terribly good guest.”

“Another joke? Pace yourself Shinomori, you’re going to wear yourself out at this rate.” Saito saunters up to him.

“It was merely a fact, not a joke.” Aoshi takes the cigarette from the man’s mouth and flicks it to stub it out under his boot.

“Tch. You need to stop taking yourself so seriously.”

“As if you don’t.”

“It’s nice to know I can get some banter out of you.” Saito smirks, and it’s not unkind, or suggestive, or mischievous. It’s almost honest.

Aoshi’s thankful for the cover of the clouded sky and darkness of night. He can feel his cheeks heat. Almost no one talks to him as a friend. As an interested party.

Of course, it doesn’t matter if it’s dark. Saito’s smirk deepens and it’s more suggestive this time, but somehow it doesn’t make Aoshi feel dirty. “Spend a night with me.”

“You have a wife. And children.” Aoshi contradicts, refusing to meet Saito’s piercing amber eyes.

“At least I have a wife. You’re fucking lonely, Shinomori. If not for sex, at least spend a night to talk with me.”

Aoshi warms at the direct proposition and Saito barks his laugh again. “God, you’re practically a kid at this whole relationship thing aren’t you? Well, it’s your own fault. If you weren’t such a cold bastard all the time Himura and I wouldn’t be your only friends.”

So Saito considers them friends. It’s a revelation and if it eases the ache inside him a little, Aoshi doesn’t let it show. “I cannot help the way I am.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Saito quirks that smirk at him again and it makes Aoshi’s cheeks feel warm again. The man gestures for Aoshi to follow him and he does.

~*~

Their walk together takes them to a house, seemingly empty. Saito just lets himself in and Aoshi follows. It’s a nice place, simple, sparsely furnished, one sitting room, one bedroom, and a bathroom.

“Safe house.” Saito offers as an explanation, whether for himself or for the police, he doesn’t say. “You want a bath first? I doubt you took a rest on your way here.”

“Aa.”

He doesn’t require hot water, the cool water from the well is refreshing and cleansing. His journey hadn’t been exhausting but it always feels good to wash away the dirt of his travels. Aoshi is drying himself off with a towel from a stack left in the bathroom when the door opens. He hadn’t even heard the man walk up to the bathroom, but he has just enough time to wrap the towel around his hips.

“Found a spare yukata if you want.” Saito is clearly eyeing him and Aoshi feels vaguely silly for wanting to cover himself up. He watches Saito’s eyes trail slowly up his body to meet his eyes. The towel is just large enough to reach midthigh, but it doesn’t quite close all the way around his hips, leaving his right side feeling incredibly bare.

Saito’s suggestive little smirk is back. “You still are beautiful. Don’t tell yourself otherwise.”

And he’s gone, the door shut behind him, his footsteps now scuffing in the dirt.

Aoshi sighs. There’s no one around for him to have to contain it.

~*~

The yukata is thankfully big, which makes him think the safe house is probably Saito’s personal one. It’s a powder blue colour, not something Aoshi thinks Saito would pick for himself.

Aoshi returns to the sitting room, a low table in the centre. Saito has sprawled himself on one side, a bottle of sake in front of him. Aoshi’s surprised by the teapot across from the sake.

“I know you don’t drink. I have no idea how to make tea, but I figure you’d prefer scorched tea to sake.” Saito gestures for Aoshi to sit, eyes trailing him till he’s sitting cross-legged next to Saito at the square table. 

Aoshi just raises a questioning eyebrow.

“My wife is a good person. She must be rubbing off on me.” Saito shrugs, almost uneasy with admitting his graciousness.

The tea is indeed burnt, but it is much preferred to the sake. They sit and drink in silence for a while, the chirping of cicadas keeping them company.

“I had friends. But they are gone.” Aoshi places the cup down slowly, his hands threatening to shake as the ache threatens to swallow him again.

“I figured you’d identify with people who don’t belong in this age. Most of us don’t. Most of us wear a mask. Himura is a fool for hiding his true nature, but alas. No one can do anything to change Battousai’s mind. You though, you’d rather be yourself and be lonely than to pretend to be one of the sheep and fit in.”

“As I said, I cannot help the way I am.”

“You’re damned right you can’t. And I like it.” Aoshi looks up from his tea at that, to see amber eyes gazing at him unwaveringly.

“I don’t know if I am ready for this.” Aoshi replies honestly.

“Tell me about what happened.” Saito requests. It’s not an order. Aoshi can hear the request in it, that he can not answer, that there will be no repercussion should he decide not to answer.

“I think you need to talk about it to get over it. Have you spoken to anyone about it? Himura? The weasel?”

Aoshi’s silence is answer enough. The wolf shifts so his posture is less flippant.

“Tell me. So it is not your burden to bear alone now that your friends are gone. I would not have it destroy you.”

“You brought it up in the first place. I had it out of mind until you had to ask.” Aoshi tries to keep his voice even, measured, but he knows his words are spilling out of himself, they want to spill out.

“Really? Then tell me, why have you not had pleasure since then?” Saito leans forward ever so slightly, and the light catches on his unnatural yellow eyes.

“There has been no time or need.” And there honestly has been no time or need. His sexuality has never been a form of pressure for him, he had felt little to no urge as he’d grown through his teen years. Perhaps it had been a by-product of his experience, but it had mattered little. His men needed him more than he needed someone else.

“It would be a shame for you to have such a body and have not experienced pleasure. Tell me about what happened.” The request is harder now, almost insisting.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I am ashamed.” Aoshi finds himself gripping the tea cup, and has to consciously relax his hand, lest he break the porcelain. “I am ashamed that I allowed it to happen.”

“No one allows things like that to happen.”

“I should have known. I was Okashira. I should have known.” His voice trembles, as does his hand.

“Tell me.” Saito has shifted closer, Aoshi can almost feel the warmth of the man’s leg where they thighs almost brush, through both the man’s uniform pants and Aoshi’s yukata.

“They had wanted a meeting to discuss strategies, our plans. They decided to have it over dinner. I was not used to alcohol, much less whatever drugs they had mixed into my drink. It tasted odd, but I had merely accepted it as the drink. I told myself one sip wouldn’t hurt. Just to appease them, I took one drink. It was enough.”

His breath catches in his throat, he can feel their hands, the burning length inside him, the hands over his mouth and nose, over his throat.

“Breathe, Aoshi.”

His inhale is shaky and Saito slides the teacup into his hand. The lukewarm taste of scorched tea brings him back. That, and the sour smell of the remnants of cigarette smoke.

“They tied my hands with my own obi and took their turns. They pierced me with needles I can only assume were tainted with more drugs. They removed my sword from my reach when I grew strong enough to try. They told me they would fire my men, and spread word of my weakness if I were to tell anyone.”

Saito’s fingers brush his as he rests his hand on the table, the small spots of contact warm and grounding.

“Hannya and Shikijo found me. They took care of me after as best they could. They would have killed them if only I had told them to. I could not.”

Saito allows him silence for a long stretch of time as Aoshi clears his mind once more.

“You realize this doesn’t change the way I see you.”

Aoshi looks up, and is a little startled to realize how close their faces are, now with Saito leaning one elbow on the table so that he can rest his chin on his hand, and the other still resting comfortably, his fingers still in contact with Aoshi’s own. It’s been a long time since someone has touched him.

“You were 13. You had the burden of responsibility. No one could have expected you to know everything there was to know. Neither of your men who knew would have blamed you for what happened.”

“It was my duty to care for them, not their duty to care for me.”

“Isn’t it? When you look at Misao, do you not feel the need to protect her, even if she doesn’t need it? Your men wanted to care for you, the way you care for her, I’m sure, and they would never have blamed you. You have nothing to be ashamed off. They understood your pain.”

Aoshi shudders, his knuckles bumping Saito’s. The man lifts his index finger and rests it gently over Aoshi’s, a strange, distant form of support and strength. Nothing and everything like Shikijo’s hand spanning his back as he lay on his belly, trying to contain his tears those years ago.

“You’re a great leader for always placing your men first. You’re a strong man for picking yourself up after that. You’re a great fighter, stubborn, full of your own beliefs. You need to believe in yourself a bit more. It wasn’t your god damned fault.”

Aoshi is silent, and Saito lets the silence linger. His sake goes untouched. After a few long minutes Saito pulls his hand away and lights a cigarette after a few puffs, he holds it out. Huffing a soft breath, Aoshi takes it.

He chokes, of course and hands it back amidst coughs to clear his throat. Saito smirks lazily and waits him out.

“You don’t usually talk like that. Comforting.” Aoshi shifts slightly and let’s his elbow bump Saito’s arm where it’s resting on the table, cigarette ash fluttering to land on the wood. Saito glances at the contact point, before looking up at Aoshi.

“Yeah, well, my wife’s a good influence.” Aoshi knows Saito’s wife had helped the broken child Saito had brought home with him. He knows the child is better now, happier, less wary of the world.

He remembers when they’d first gone back to the Aoiya, when Shikijo had tried to find a girl for Aoshi. He remembers soft conversations with Hannya, watching the rest of the men relax and let themselves go a little, how Hannya had told him they just wanted the best for him, for him to be happy. In another life, he could have loved Shikijo. Or Hannya. Cold blooded fighters, but with warmth in their souls for him.

But it wasn’t meant to be, and now here he is, with another cold-blooded fighter who somehow had found warmth in his soul for Aoshi. Could he love Saito Hajime? Love was a strong word to use, but he found himself not feeling averse to letting the man into his life.

“Have you ever been kissed?” Saito’s amber eyes are closer now, the cigarette stubbed out in an ashtray, it’s glowing embers and the last plumes of sweet smoke suddenly making the atmosphere a lot more charged and Aoshi starts to feel warm again.

“Aa.”

“On the mouth you contrary asshole.”

Aoshi huffs softly, it’s a nice feeling, to laugh.

“Will you let me show you pleasure?”

Aoshi’s breath shudders out between them, and amber eyes are even closer still. Aoshi dips his chin slightly, and Saito closes the gap between them. Aoshi is surprised by how gentle he is. Saito’s lips are dry, and just a little chapped, but it’s warm and gentle and surprisingly nice.

Saito pulls away just enough so their lips aren’t touching but their noses still bump. “More?”

Aoshi nods. “Show me?”

The wolf closes in and Aoshi sighs softly when their lips meet again. He hadn’t quite expected the wet swipe of tongue, hot and deliberate over his lower lip. Still gentle, and nothing like the harsh touches that had plagued his dreams.

Fingers brush his chin and Aoshi controls the urge to flinch, but they just rest there, the lightest touch of two finger tips as Saito delves deeper into his mouth, tongue sliding over teeth and tongue as Saito slants his head to get closer. Aoshi finds himself leaning into the contact, and takes a chance and flicks his own tongue against Saito’s. Amber eyes pull away to smile at Aoshi. 

“You learn fast, as expected.”

Saito tastes of cigarettes but surprisingly, not overwhelmingly of sake. Aoshi had braced himself for the taste of it, but it never came. He’d gotten over the smell of sake quickly, he was surrounded by people who drank and it was their prerogative and their lives, he could not expect them to change for him, for something he would never tell them about. But he never enjoyed the taste of it. He could grow to enjoy the taste of cigarettes in the man’s mouth though.

And he does.

~*~

The morning finds them both asleep on the floor of the sitting room. Aoshi wakes early, as he normally does despite of the hour he went to bed the night before. Saito is lying next to him, surprisingly, turned to face him. Aoshi had been lying on his back, but opening his eyes to see Saito Hajime was disconcerting to say the least.

It takes 3 seconds for Saito to wake after Aoshi, impressive. They both regard the other in silence for a few long seconds, before Saito sits up first.

“Sleep well?”

“Aa.”

“Back to that again, are we?”

Aoshi finds his lips quirking, despite himself. Saito is running his hand through his hair, but Aoshi can see amber eyes watching him.

“Aa.”

“Contrary little shit.” Saito rises to his feet and Aoshi follows at his own pace. The yukata is a little loose, the obi’s tie not as tight after few hours of sleep, but he’s not indecent. Saito had been patient, stopping when Aoshi had stopped, and continuing only when he’d been ready. The furthest they’d gotten was Aoshi’s hand on Saito’s throat, the wolf’s hand flat on Aoshi’s chest, hence the slightly loose yukata. It was Saito who called the final stop, as if he could feel Aoshi’s heart pounding under his hand.

He hadn’t been frightened. Maybe a little scared, but equally excited and interested in the proceedings. But he’d accepted the stop. He needed time to process things and he was glad Saito seemed to know that before he himself did.

As Aoshi fixes the yukata, his hands still when Saito’s hands rest over them. 

“I meant to say, you look good in your new uniform. But you look even better in my yukata. Makes your skin look like ivory.” Saito touches light finger tips to Aoshi’s bared sternum.

He ducks in for a quick kiss, still gentle and just a press of lips, before he’s pulling away.

“You have no idea how much I want to show you everything, every way I can make you shake with pleasure.” Saito breathes softly against his mouth. The but we need to go slow goes unsaid, but Aoshi knows it to be true. He would probably panic they went to fast. He wishes he could control himself, but he’s beginning to understand perhaps some things are out of his control.

“Wash, then I’ll bring you for food. I don’t think you stopped to feed yourself either did you? I’ll come back here, take your time. I need to see the wife and kid and change.” Saito gives him one more peck, before turning on his heel and leaving the house. If Aoshi smiles a little to himself, there’s no one to see.

~*~

An hour later sees them at a restaurant, eating Saito’s favourite soba and having tea.

“The wife says you should come by some time.” Aoshi doesn’t know how one can deliver such a loaded statement so flippantly.

“She knows?”

“What? No. I just told her I was with a friend visiting from Kyoto. She says you should join us for dinner the next time you’re in town.” Saito is smirking again. “Worried you’ve been found out, Shinomori? I didn’t peg you as the embarrassed sort.”

“Aoshi.”

“Hn?”

“Aoshi. That’s my name.” Aoshi sips his tea. Almost everyone calls him Aoshi. Even his enemies call him Aoshi. It seems strange that the man who kisses him doesn’t call him Aoshi.

“Fine. I didn’t peg you for the embarrassed sort, Aoshi.” Saito half rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t deserve the heartache.” The guilt gnaws now. He imagines a woman, heartbroken to find out her husband is cheating on her, much less with another man.

“Eh, she’s fine. A part of me believes she knows what I really am, the Fujita Goro is just a cover for me. That I love her as a part of a persona. I believe that I know that she knows that I don’t love her completely, and that she could never love the real me, and she’s alright with it.”

Aoshi looks up. It’s startling for Saito to be sharing so much with anyone. But he supposes he understands. Unlike Himura, who has whole-heartedly given up the persona of Battousai, Saito cannot completely remove himself from his Mibu wolf persona. Kaoru-san loves Himura is he is, a wanderer. Saito’s wife loves a mask, Lt. Fujita Goro, and she could possibly never love Saito Hajime. Perhaps she knows, and perhaps the reason why Saito can stand to be with her is because she has accepted him even as a fractured mask of himself, and is willing to love whatever he is willing to give her.

It seems unfair, but Aoshi can hardly vouch for her mind and heart. Fujita Goro seems to be a good man, stable, strong and appreciative of his wife’s person. Perhaps that is enough for her.

“She is a good woman.” Aoshi reiterates what Saito has told him previously.

“Hn. She probably deserves better than me.” Saito admits, lazily swirling his tea. It’s not forced, he’s come to terms with the fact he will never truly commit himself to her, and in doing so, let her down, but he also seems to be at peace with her peace with the arrangement as it is.

A better man would give up what they have. Give Saito back to his wife. And perhaps Aoshi is selfish. Perhaps he wants to keep this man who seems to understand him to himself. But he also thinks Saito is his own man. Whether or not Aoshi continues this thing with him is regardless. Saito will never give himself fully to Fujita Goro’s wife. Because he is not Fujita Goro.

“Aoshi? Saito?”

What are the chances? That familiar pink gi and shock of bright red hair stops beside their table. Himura looks as he always does, benign smile on his scarred face. Kaoru-san is with him, and her smile is equally warm and welcoming, even if Aoshi can see just a hint of wariness.

“What are you both doing here? Aoshi, I didn’t know you were in Tokyo, that you are.”

“Police business. Aoshi was just aiding the Tokyo police with catching a killer.” Saito eyes the other swordsman in what looks like disdain, but Aoshi and Himura know is just how Saito is.

“A killer? Oh yes, we heard about that, that we did. It’s good to know the police is handling things so efficiently now.” The sharp glint is back in Himura’s eyes. Not quite as wary as Kaoru’s, but definitely no longer just fooling around.

“The killer’s done and caught. At this rate I’ll have to hire Aoshi as a contractor or a consultant.” Saito lights a cigarette, smirk on his lips.

“If it means I’ll have to keep coming down to Tokyo, I may have to pass.” Aoshi teases right back, he knows Saito can hear it. And probably Himura too, but he has nothing to hide from the former manslayer.

“And how is Misao, Aoshi?” Kaoru-san speaks up then. Aoshi feels himself soften. No matter what, Misao is always special to him, and he supposes around friends he has no reason to pretend.

“She’s well. Okina has her learning the trappings of being a proper innkeeper, hence why she cannot be here on this trip.” Aoshi meets her eyes, and her smile is wide and infectious. In another world, she and Misao could have been sisters, with their strong and effervescent spirits.

“She must despise that, that she does.” Aoshi always marvels at how such a mild mannered man could have been a legendary killer.

Aoshi can’t help huffing what he’s coming to realize is his way of laughing. The threats Misao had hurled at Okina for forcing her to stay home should be recorded for their sheer creativity.

“Aoshi…” HImura’s eyes are wide with surprise, but pleased. Kaoru-san just looks gobsmacked.

“Apparently gloom incarnate has learnt to laugh. Believe me, no one was more shocked than himself.” Saito butts in, and there is sarcasm in his smirk, but Aoshi has learnt to see the warmth in his eyes.

As Kaoru sputters, Aoshi sees Himura’s eyes flick between himself and Saito, and knows the man is putting everything together. He feels like he should be blushing, but he doesn’t. He feels strangely content that someone is aware of their burgeoning relationship.

Himura’s eyes soften again, the acceptance clear, and Aoshi is surprised to find a knot he hadn’t realized had formed in his chest had loosened. The wanderer smiles warmly at them both.

“Well, we shan’t bother you, that we will. Aoshi, if you’re not busy, you’re most welcome to come by the dojo. I’d love to have tea with you again, that I will. Saito, it’s a pleasure seeing you again, that it is.” Himura dips his head in a bow before turning to leave them. Kaoru-san’s head swivels rapidly back and forth between Himura’s back and the both of them, as if she’s trying to understand what just happened, before bowing quickly, and wishing them both well before running after Himura. Aoshi hears her asking questions and Himura trying to fend them off.

“So. Himura definitely knows. You still feeling guilty and embarrassed?” Saito exhales more cigarette smoke.

“No. He understands.” Aoshi waves the smoke away.

“Hmm. People with shared experience are hard to find.” Saito puts the cigarette out and finishes his tea.

“Aa. Those of us that do find each other have to accept and not judge.” Aoshi finishes his tea as Saito pays for their meal.

As they leave the restaurant, Saito leans in close and whispers, “You can pay me back in other ways.”

Aoshi feels his lips quirk slightly. He can work with that.


	2. mentally dressing you, I want to rescue you, and make you mine, all mine, oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship starts to gain ground and pick up speed and people get notified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, this is pure indulgence on my part. I took many liberties in terms of clothing, behaviour, etc. Pardon my errors, and I hope you enjoy it, again. Thank you to everyone who liked and reviewed, means the world to me, and I hope this was worth the wait and I hope you enjoy this. :) 
> 
> TW: there are descriptions of scars, if this is a problem for you, you might want to tread carefully.
> 
> Also once more, these characters are not my own, this is just what my twisted mind comes up with. The title for this chapter comes from 'Kinda Girl You Are' by the Kaiser Chiefs.
> 
> .....idk if they sound remotely like themselves, but again this is pure indulgence on my part as a writer D:

Aoshi and Saito split ways after breakfast. Saito has to work and Aoshi needs to head back to Tokyo before Misao frets and decides to abandon her duties to find him. Aoshi figures he needs to sit her down and talk to her once and for all. He can’t let her go on like this, and she deserves better. And now that he intends to pursue…whatever this is he has with Saito, he needs her to understand his feelings towards her once and for all. He tells Saito as much and the wolf just shrugs.

“It’s your life.”

Well, Aoshi supposes the man has given enough advice for now.

So he makes his way to the Kamiya dojo, stopping to buy sweets for tea. Himura would be a better source for advice. Aoshi hopes.

Aoshi finds himself walking along the river as he makes his way to the dojo. He quite likes Tokyo. He understands what Himura means, leaving Kyoto behind. But of course, he has his own nightmares of Tokyo. Aoshi wonders briefly what happened to Kanryuu. Some feelings he just cannot let go of. He wishes he could, wishes he could let go of the rage of what the foul man had done to his most loyal friends. But he cannot. He cannot grant his men peace, he cannot yet let go of their deaths. How unfairly they had been taken from the world. From Misao. From him.

But he has good memories of them here in Tokyo too. While they were working for Kanryuu, they still got to share their lives together in Tokyo. Perhaps Tokyo isn’t too bad. Perhaps he can find himself a small home and split his time between Tokyo and Kyoto. He finds he quite enjoys the solitary nature of travel, it gives him space to think and the many paths he can take are all scenic and beautiful, and he wouldn’t mind doing some exploring again.

Perhaps. Perhaps he is getting ahead of himself with this thing with Saito. Perhaps moving here would be too serious a step. Perhaps Saito wishes for their relationship to just be a once in a while thing, the occasional tryst together. If that is all Saito is willing to give, it is all Aoshi is willing to have. He should not demand anything more from a married man. Again, Aoshi knows Saito will do what he wants, but he feels guilt if he should go around encouraging the man to spend even more time with him than he already does.

Perhaps.

Perhaps Misao and Okina will not even let him leave. He owes them a lot.

Aoshi pauses in front of the dojo and raises his fist to knock on the wood. He barely gets a knock in when the door opens. The spiky haired boy glares up at him.

“Oh. It’s you. Misao isn’t here, you came all this way for nothing.”

Aoshi regards the boy for a while. He wonders if everyone thinks him and Misao are in a relationship together. And if they all honestly think she needs him to babysit her.

“I didn’t come here for Misao, I’m here to see Himura.”

“Oh. He’s inside. KENSHIN.” The boy yells and Aoshi wonders again how Himura went from manslayer to being yelled at by ten year olds.

“Yahiko? I thought you would have left by now?” Himura’s voice reaches Aoshi’s ears first, before the man himself comes into view. As usual, he has his sleeves tied back, and his hands are wet. “Oh, Aoshi! You came. I had hoped you would.”

Aoshi manages what he hopes is a smile, lifting the paper bag he is holding for Himura to see. “I hope I bought the right sweets for tea.”

“You shouldn’t have! But thank you. Come in! I’ll get the tea set. Would you like to join us, Yahiko?” Himura smiles warmly at the boy, he looks both wary and interested at the same time. Aoshi hopes he doesn’t agree. He’d rather not talk to Himura about Misao with the boy around.

“Ehhhh I’ll pass, you’ll both probably just do boring things and drink tea.”

“That we will.” Himura smiles sheepishly and the boy grunts his goodbyes to them both. He truly is growing into his grumpy teen stage.

“Come in, sit, rest while I get the tea.” Himura gestures Aoshi ahead to the living compound. Aoshi figures they will use the same room again and lets himself into the room. He hears Himura rustling through the store, he hears the fist fighter, Sanosuke. It’s almost like a repeat of their previous time together. It feels…nice. It feels nice to know he has friends still, friends who understand him and accept him for who he is, because that is what Himura is to him. And Aoshi would count Sanosuke as a friend, and the boy, Yahiko. The boy who perhaps has spent too much time around men like Himura and Saito and Aoshi himself. The boy will go far, him and Misao should continue to be good friends and allies.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Himua slides the door open, balancing the hot water and tea set precariously. Aoshi manages what he hopes is a smile and rises to help him. Himura matches his smile and they both silently set up the tea ceremony. Aoshi hands the sweets he’d bought over to Himura, waving away his thanks and goes about preparing the tea.

“I’m glad to see you’re settling in to your life.” Himura begins. It isn’t as light hearted as Himura usually sounds. He sounds genuinely concerned for Aoshi’s well being and genuinely pleased at the progress he’s made. Aoshi feels a certain warmth of pride and satisfaction.

“Aa.” Aoshi tries it out, just to see how Himura reacts.

“Well, maybe some things haven’t changed.” Himura remarks with a sheepish smile and Aoshi cannot help but laugh, and watch as Himura’s eyes widen at the realization at what Aoshi had done.

The ex-manslayer’s smile warms, his eyes sharpening, and Aoshi knows it is one ex-slayer to another, “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you. I owe a large portion of it to you. I never did thank you for bringing me back.” Aoshi slides Himura’s tea to him, and holds on to his own cup.

“Your gratitude is appreciated, but unnecessary. I believe a part of you never left and that on your own time, you would have returned eventually.” Himura says as he lifts the tea to drink, but never breaking eye contact. The man’s eyes are sincere, and Aoshi begins to let himself believe him a bit. That perhaps he hadn’t been as lost as he felt.

“Still, thank you. Thank you for being a good friend.” Aoshi can’t help but duck his gaze down to look at his tea. He wonders where the sudden insecurity is from. He’s pretty sure Himura counts him as a friend too, but on the off chance he doesn’t, Aoshi hates that it would probably hurt more than he wants to admit.

“I’m honoured you would count me as a friend of yours, and I hope you know that you are a friend to me too.” Himura smiles, warm and welcoming and the aching loneliness that has so long haunted Aoshi recedes a little more, and he can almost see Shikijo’s smile, proud and happy.

Aoshi meets the man’s eyes and returns the smile. It feels good, like a little less weight on his soul. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had people to call friends.”

Himura’s smile is sad, but comforting and Aoshi wonders how he went so long without someone to truly call a friend. “They would be proud of you, that they would.”

Aoshi swallows down the sudden lump in his throat. Himura speaks the truth. They would be proud of him. “Aa.” Is all he can manage before he has to take a sip of tea to cover his sudden inability to say anything more. He misses them, and yet it feels like maybe he can finally let them go and it’s a notion he both wants and fears.

“So… Saitou…”

Aoshi hadn’t expected for Himura to be so direct, but then again, the man had always been open and honest with his words, though never hurtful. Aoshi feels his cheeks heat and tries to will it away, but if Himura’s pleased and amused smile is anything to go by, he’s failing rather obviously.

“I believe we are attempting to have a relationship.” Aoshi feels his face warm at the admission and he feels vaguely like a pre-pubescent girl admitting a crush.

“If I’m being honest, I would never have expected it.” Himura is sheepish once more. “The both of you seemed not too excited to see each other again the last time we met.”

“People with shared experience are hard to find. We’ve agreed it best to…embrace our similarities.” Aoshi tries to explain it best without saying ‘he understands me’.

“Indeed. And you’re worried about how Ms. Misao will take it.” Himura’s eyes shift once more to caring and understanding and how has Aoshi lucked out again to have such men to call allies.

“Aa. She. I. She feels more for me than I do for her, and I don’t want to break her heart. Again.” Aoshi manages to get out.

“I think you are very wrong to think that way. I believe you love Ms. Misao just as much as she does you, except you love each other in different ways, and it is not your fault, Aoshi. If Ms. Misao were to tell you she hated you and never wanted to see you again, what would you do?”

Just the thought of it causes Aoshi’s heart to ache. A life without Misao would be inconceivable, but if that was what she wished, he would understand and respect her wishes.

“Exactly. You trust her to know her mind, to know what she wants and needs, and you trust that she knows herself. Likewise, this one believes she would do the same for you. It will hurt her, but she will accept it. You both share a very special bond, Aoshi, the trust and belief you have in each other is truly remarkable. Trust her to trust you.”

Aoshi mulls it over as he swirls his tea. “You make it sound so simple.” Perhaps this is what grumbling is like.

Himura laughs, and the sound of it makes Aoshi feel a little better. “I am of the belief that it is that simple between you and Ms Misao.”

“I hope you’re right.” Aoshi manages another small smile which Himura returns.

They pass the rest of their time in relative silence, Himura asking him about the rest of the Aoiya, and Aoshi shares his experiences working at the Shirobeko.

“I would have liked to see that, you working at a restaurant.” Himura teases, as he divides a sweet for them to share.

“There is a lot for me to learn before Okina will ever trust me to run the Aoiya.” Aoshi takes his half of the sweet and savours it. He’s never realized how much of a sweet tooth he has. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Himura slides him another tea cake with a smile.

~*~

Aoshi ends up staying till late in the evening, when the two girls, Ayame and Suzume turn up to pester Himura, who has started up on his share of the household chores once more. The girls have grown since he last saw them, the older now blushes every time he meets her eyes, and the younger has enough understanding to needle and shove her elbow into her sister’s ribs every time she blushes. Aoshi pretends to be oblivious to it all, he’s had a lot of practice with Misao. This time instead of just making the cranes for them, he folds slowly and has them following along. It unsurprisingly takes forever, they don’t have the experience he has and have to unfold and refold multiple times when they are unable to get clean lines. A part of him knows anyone else would have gotten annoyed, but he finds it calming almost, their incessant chattering and squeals and boisterous laughter.

Aoshi laughs. He’s been conditioned by Misao.

They finally finish their cranes and both girls triumphantly hold their cranes aloft. Aoshi smiles at them both, that swelling pride so familiar. And then Ayame-chan flushes, eyes wide before saying something about showing her crane to someone before dashing off. Suzume-chan giggles before tip-toeing to place a kiss on Aoshi’s cheek, thanking him and running off after her sister.

“Looks like Ayame-chan has her first crush.” Himura remarks as he hangs the clothes out to dry. It’s Aoshi’s turn to colour, his cheeks feel warm, and if Himura’s laugh is anything to go by, there’s definitely some red on his cheeks. “You’re very good with them, that you are.”

“I’ve been well trained.” Aoshi deadpans, his hands already busy on another piece of paper. He’s a bit out of practice, but he manages to make a cat, which he gives to Himura when the man settles down next to him.

“Stay for dinner?” Himura offers. “You can help me cook.”

Aoshi figures Himura would need the help.

~*~

“This is delicious!” Kaoru-san exclaims as she bites into the tempura.

“Aoshi’s as good with kitchen knives as he is with his kodachi.” Himura praises. Aoshi gives him a small smile in thanks and goes back to portioning out rice and tempura for the two girls who blink blearily at him, having just been woken from their nap.

“Good at cooking, good with kids, you should just go be a housewife.” Yahiko snarks, earning himself a smack on the head and admonishment from Kaoru-san which quickly devolves into bickering, while Himura just tries to calm them down. Aoshi just calmly serves the girls their food and waits for the both of them to quiet down before he speaks.

“No man could dream of keeping me.”

It’s satisfying to watch all three of them choke on their food once they’ve processed what he said.

Kaoru-san’s face is red, and Aoshi remembers she saw him with Saitou in the morning and she is a pretty observant girl so Aoshi knows she must be picturing him with Saitou and sure enough when he makes eye contact with her she turn even more red before looking away and stuffing her face with food in an effort to avoid him.

Himura coughs a little more before turning baleful eyes to Aoshi “No one would have guessed you have such a wicked sense of humour.”

“I cannot help the way I am.” Aoshi says as he helps Suzume-chan break a large piece of tempura into bite-sized pieces.

Yahiko just continues to look stunned speechless.

 

~*~

Aoshi leaves after dinner despite Himura’s and Kaoru-san’s offers to spend the night. As much as has grown to enjoy their company, he really has spent longer than he’d intended in Tokyo. He leaves amid promises to return, with Misao, and starts his trek back home. A part of him wants to see Saitou again, but he doesn’t know where the man could be at this time of night and just figures they’ll see each other when they see each other. So he’s pretty surprised when the man falls into step next to him as he’s reaching the outskirts of Tokyo.

“How are Himura and company?” Saitou starts, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.

“Good, as they always are. Cheerful.” Aoshi steals the cigarette for a quick drag before handing it back. It still leaves him in a coughing fit, but less so than the night before.

“You shouldn’t start, you’ll get addicted.” Saitou advises, flippant as usual. Aoshi snorts.

“I’ll be going up to Kyoto soon. Is there anywhere you can go that’s away from the old man and the weasel?” Saitou hands the cigarette over again and Aoshi eyes briefly before taking it and taking another pull. He manages to not cough it up immediately and there it is, he feels the rush of nicotine, like ants crawling across his forehead. It’s a strange sensation, it makes him feel looser, but not drunk.

“They’re not my guardians, they won’t try to kill you just because you’re with me.” They wouldn’t but maybe Shikijou and Hyottoko would have tried, just to test him.

“Not scared of them, as if they could do any real damage. I just don’t want to be getting it on with you when they could potentially be walking in on us. I’m sure you wouldn’t want the weasel to find out you’re not interested in her by seeing my tongue down your throat.” Saitou takes the cigarette back and doesn’t hand it back over immediately, instead holding on for a few more drags.

Aoshi feels his cheeks warm at the thought of Misao or Okina or any of the others opening the door and walking in on him and Saitou.

“You’re cute when you blush.” Saitou teases, smirk drawing the cigarette to the upturned corner of his mouth. Aoshi takes the cigarette, his fingertips brushing Saitou’s lips.

Before he can bring the cigarette to his mouth, Saitou has his wrist in one hand, holding him open before swooping in close. Aoshi quells the urge to fight. Saitou’s grip is there, but it’s not tight nor retraining, his hand is just circling Aoshi’s wrist, just holding and it’s more comforting than it is restraining. Saitou glances a quick look at him, checking that he’s okay and it make something warm flare in Aoshi’s belly. Satisfied at whatever he finds, Saitou closes the rest of the distance and kisses Aoshi.

This time they both taste of cigarettes and Saitou goes straight for the inside of Aoshi’s mouth. Aoshi lets him in, teasing him back with bold licks before he pulls away, nipping on Saitou’s lip as he pulls away.

The former Shinsengumi smiles, lazy and satisfied. “You like?”

“Aa.” Aoshi initiates this time, closing the slight distance between them and pressing himself closer so that he can feel Saitou’s warmth all over his front. Saitou takes it as permission and presses himself even closer, blanketing Aoshi and walking him backwards just a little till his back hits a wall. His grip around Aoshi’s wrist never tightens, never threatening, and Aoshi is surprised that he’s not as uncomfortable with Saitou’s body over his own as he thought he would be.

“Okay?” Saitou’s amber eyes glint in the darkness of the slight over hang they are under. Aoshi shifts slightly so they fit a bit better together, not just pressing against one another. His legs end up spread a little wider, Saitou standing between them. Saitou settles his free hand on the curve of Aoshi’s side, and the man rumbles his pleasure, his hand stroking slightly.

“Your body is fucking ridiculous, you know.” Saitou says, more as a passing remark than as a compliment, but it still serves its purpose of heating Aoshi’s cheeks. Saitou’s hand curves around to splay proprietarily across the small of Aoshi’s back, squeezing between the twin knots of his waist tie. “Your tie is fucking ridiculous too, you’re just asking people to stare at your ass.”

Aoshi reaches his free hand around to stop the man from tugging at the long, trailing ribbons which, now the man has mentioned it, does frame his ass. He’d been thinking more of the security of the double knots, not so much the aesthetic appeal.

“Not that I’m complaining mind you. That is a fantastic posterior you have.” Saitou smirks and sneaks his hand out of Aoshi’s grasp to lay a quick smack. Aoshi jerks, right into Saitou’s hips and he’s not sure if he’s surprised or not to find that the man is semi-hard in his slacks.

And just as suddenly, Saitou has backed off enough that no part of them is touching except where Saitou still has his hand around Aoshi’s wrist, his thumb now rubbing soothing circles into his inner wrist. “Okay?”

Aoshi’s admittedly surprised that Saitou seems to have anticipated his panic before he could even feel it rising. He can feel the surge ebbing away now, not being given the last push to swell over him. “Aa.” Aoshi thanks Saitou with his eyes and the man seems to relax.

“Guess we’ll have to remember: no sudden movements.” Saitou teases, but there’s no heat to his words. Aoshi would be offended but he gets it. Saitou has his own way of reassuring him that they’re fine, that Saitou’s not worried about the snail’s pace they’ll have to go at, that again, he understands. Aoshi would apologize, but he knows Saitou would just brush it aside.

Instead Aoshi lifts his hand still with the cigarette to his mouth, Saitou’s hand still wrapped around his wrist as he inhales slowly. Saitou releases his wrist, shifting to brush his thumb down Aoshi’s jaw.

“Fucking ridiculous.” Saitou murmurs, before leaning in and stealing the smoke straight from Aoshi’s lips.

~*~

Aoshi leaves Tokyo, with Saitou’s promise that he’ll be in Kyoto soon. Aoshi tells him of the inn in the outskirts of Kyoto he likes, for its secluded location and discrete owners. He’s used the place for Oniwaban business and the owners know who he is and wisely keep their noses out of it. Now he just has to talk to Misao about this whole business.

He tells himself that even if Saitou hadn’t come along and invaded his life the way he did, Aoshi still would have had his talk with Misao soon. She’s young and deserves to spend her time looking for a more suitable partner, rather than thinking she can wait him out. A part of him marvels at her patience in the matter, perhaps he can find a way to help her channel this determination into other aspects of her life.

But she wouldn’t be Misao then.

The Aoiya comes into view. It’s early in the morning, with the sun just peeking through in rays of orange and pink. It bathes the Aoiya in a warm light and a part of Aoshi inside still whispers home as he walks up to it. Aoshi lets himself in quietly, putting away his boots. There are shoes he doesn’t recognize again and Aoshi makes sure to be completely silent as he makes his way to his room.

Perhaps he was being too silent. Shirojou leaps backwards in shock when they meet around a corner, just managing to stifle what must surely have been a very manly cry of shock. Aoshi has to control his urge to laugh as Shirojou cycles quickly through shock and recognition and embarrassment before he settles on a mild anger. Aoshi’s glad they’ve come round and stopped being so respectful to him. He is not their Okashira anymore and he’s glad they are starting to treat him as any other at the Aoiya and less like Aoshi-sama.

“Aoshi-sama!” well, there is still that habit to break. “You scared me half to death.” Aoshi raises an eyebrow and the man breaks into a sheepish smile. “Well, I guess I deserved it for not being more aware. It’s good to have you back.” Shirojou bows respectfully even though Aoshi’s almost sure the man has a few years on Aoshi himself.

“It’s good to be back.” Aoshi returns the bow and continues on his way to his room. He figures his talk with Misao can wait till he’s had a bit of time to rest and gather his words. And till Misao wakes up.

Aoshi manages to get a quick bath in and about two hours of meditation before Misao wakes and realizes he’s home. He can hear her exclamation of surprise when Shirojou informs her Aoshi is back and he can almost feel her thundering through the Aoiya to get up to his room. How he has failed in training her, Aoshi muses to himself.

“Aoshi-sama! I’m coming in!” She calls from outside his door and she waits a very quick but still relatively patient few seconds before sliding his door open. Aoshi looks up at her, and her bright smile immediately eases a little of the worry that had been building up in him since he started thinking about what to say to her. Perhaps it will be as simple as Himura says.

“Misao.” Aoshi greets her. She curls her legs under herself and grins at Aoshi, bright and welcoming and it really is coming home.

“Aoshi-sama! How was it? Did you get him!?” Misao is almost bouncing in her excitement and enthusiasm and Aoshi almost decides to not tell her just yet, but he steels himself. He must.

“We got her.” Aoshi tells her and watches her eyes widen as she processes the information.

“Her?! Wow! Wait, who’s we?! Did Himura help you out? I miss those guys.” Misao pouts.

“They miss you too, but it wasn’t Himura who I worked with. Saitou happened to be working the same case for the Tokyo police department. We worked together to get the murderer.”

“Hmmmm, I haven’t seen Saitou since the whole Enishi business.” Misao seems to pause to think, before her smile brightens again. “Well, you two make a formidable team I’m sure. I may not like him much, but I’m sure he’s not as irritating to you as he is to me.”

Aoshi almost wants to say he knows how irritating Saitou can be, but refrains.

“We do work well together.” Aoshi acknowledges. He takes a breath. No time would be better. Aoshi looks up at her, to look her in the eye as he breaks the news to her but her expression stops him. She looks awed and over-joyed, and yet there are tears and hurt in her eyes.

“You smiled. Aoshi-sama, you smiled.” Her voice trembles and she’s smiling but the tears spilled down her cheeks and Aoshi reaches for her. She’s already leaning up on her knees, so it’s easy for Aoshi to pull her into his arms. He apologizes as she clutches at him, clinging like she did when she was so much younger, just as small and fragile in his arms as she was back then.

Aoshi apologizes softly again as she sniffles and pulls away, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“He makes you happy, yes?” Misao asks, her voice wavering just a little.

“I. Yes. He understands me.” Aoshi answers, honest. She deserves the truth.

“He understands you in ways I can’t. And he makes you smile. That’s all that’s important.” She sniffles again and smiles up at him, just a little sad, and it both hurts and heals Aoshi. Aoshi blinks at her for a while and he didn’t think himself capable of tears, but he feels the moisture build in his eyes. What has he done to deserve the love of such a wonderful girl.

“Don’t cry, Aoshi-sama!” Misao wails plaintively and wipes at her eyes again. “It hurts, I’m sad, but it’s not your fault. I know you love me, just not in the way I want you to, and you finally have something good in your life happening to you and I want to be happy for you. I want you to be happy.”

Aoshi takes a breath. Two. “I’m sorry Misao. I will always be sorry. That I can’t be who you want me to be. You make me happy Misao. So happy, and so proud, you. I don’t ever want you to think you don’t make me happy. Every day with you is brighter than the last. I just.”

“Can’t love me that way. I understand, Aoshi-sama.” Misao smiles up at him, more confident and more reassuring now and Aoshi returns it with a smile of his own, filled with all the pride and love he feels for her. He watches her smile widen, her eyes brighten, not enough to wash away the hurt and heartbreak lingering in her, but enough that perhaps he doesn’t have to worry about it that much. Himura is right. No matter what, they have each other. She may never get over her heartbreak, he may never get over his guilt. But they have each other and perhaps that’s all that matters.

Aoshi leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead and she returns one to his cheek.

“I’m going to go now, I think Omasu needs help with the laundry. It’s good to have you home, Aoshi-sama.”

“Misao.” Aoshi calls just as she’s rising. “I’d prefer if you just called me Aoshi.”

“Hai, Aoshi-sa- oh. Aoshi.” She blushes a little, but nods, before taking off.

Aoshi has five minutes to gather himself again before his door is opening again and Okina lets himself in.

Neither of them says a thing until Okina is sitting across from Aoshi. Aoshi bows his head in greeting and Okina returns it before sighing. “What did I do to be in charge of the both of you?”

Aoshi raises an eyebrow, before dipping his head in apology. Okina scoffs and Aoshi feels a small smile quirk at the corner of his lips. “Idiots, the both of you. She can’t get over you, you can’t love her. Why couldn’t you just have made my life easy for once and just say yes to her? Oh that’s right, because apparently you like cops who are former Shinsengumi.”

Aoshi opens his eyes at that and looks at Okina.

“Don’t look at me like that, I may be old but I’m still the best information gatherer in Tokyo.” Okina scoffs again, but there’s little malice in his voice. Aoshi knows Okina doesn’t particularly care about Saitou and what he does, so it must be that he’s angry for Misao getting hurt in all of this.

The old man sighs and rubs his face, hand trailing down to tug on his beard. “You’re so young, all of you. Falling in love, having secret trysts with married men, having broken hearts. You’re the last person I’d have thought would have so much drama in their lives.”

“It’s hardly dramatic.” Aoshi rebuts. And it isn’t. It’s just the way Okina has phrased it makes it seem overly dramatic.

“Perhaps it’s time you had some drama of this sort in your life.” Okina’s tone is mocking almost, but Aoshi doesn’t hear the malice in his voice. “Perhaps it’s time you had some normal drama.”

Aoshi mostly manages to hold in a snort. Still, Okina smiles, and it’s an expression Aoshi hasn’t seen for years, from before he’d left the Aoiya, before Kanryuu and Himura and how he has missed it. It was the smile of family, of comfort, of welcome.

“You never got the chance to just be normal, I’m kind of excited to see how you manage being a person.” Okina mocks. “What more being in a relationship.”

Aoshi controls the urge to roll his eyes, Okina looks positively gleeful. “This thing with Saitou-san is….serious?”

Aoshi isn’t sure himself, so he shrugs. He supposes he’s serious about it, perhaps he should make a joke about not knowing how to not be serious about anything. But he’s honestly not sure how serious Saitou is taking things. Saitou seems serious enough, someone not serious surely would not be patient enough to deal with his issues.

“I don’t know how to be anything but serious.” Aoshi deadpans.

Okina’s laugh echoes through the entirety of the Aoiya for a good few minutes.

~*~

Saitou turns up at the Aoiya a week and a few days later, bored expression on his face. Aoshi is helping tend to the garden, his hands covered in mulch and mud on his knees. Ochika lets him in and the man has the most supremely unbothered expression on his face, if not for the pleased glint in his gold eyes as he walks in and spies Aoshi among the greens. Aoshi eyes him, but continues to pull the weeds that are growing amongst the bamboos. 

“Go pack your bags and tell your guardians I’m taking you away for a while, tell them you’re sleeping over at mine.” Saitou drawls. Kurojou, who had been working alongside Aoshi flushes red but other than that, he pointedly doesn’t react.

“I still have work to do, you have to wait.” Aoshi tells him.

“Fine, I have to talk to the old man and the weasel anyway.” That has Aoshi’s full attention. “Police business, we may be contracting the Oniwaban’s services from now on.”

As if on cue, three kunai bury themselves in the wood just next to Saitou’s head. The man doesn’t even flinch as Misao flies across the compound and is in his face yelling about being careful and not hurting Aoshi. Saitou sighs and bears the lecture though he meets Aoshi’s eyes over Misao’s scolding head and Aoshi spots the amused spark in them.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Misao’s screech reaches epic proportions that even Aoshi and Saitou wince. Saitou deigns to look down and meet her eyes. She calms. “I’m serious, if you hurt him, I will find a way to hurt you, I will not give up until you’ve suffered.”

Saitou scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, if you say so.”

Misao looks about ready to fly into another rage, but Okina takes the opportunity to appear and cut in. “I understand you wanted to meet, Lt Fujita?”

Saitou turns and jerks his head, indicating for Misao to follow. “I need to speak with you and the Okashira, Kashiwazaki-san, may we have a private room?”

“Of course, come, Misao.” Okina leads them to one of the private rooms, away from the guests.

~*~

“So for a sum every month, the Tokyo police will require you to report any gossip pertaining to national security. I am placing my trust that your idea of threats are in line with ours. Should you provide any more aid on top of the reports, you will be compensated accordingly.”

Misao looks at Okina, who seems contemplative.

“And we will not be required to provide the aid?” Okina asks.

“No, not required. You can provide it as you see fit. If you don’t volunteer your services, we will not ask for it.” Saitou confirms. “It is no longer the Tokugawa era, you are no longer indentured to the government. You just have to willingly give up any and all information you find.”

Saitou phrases his words carefully. He needs them both to be aware of the terms the Tokyo police are willing to extend. Hiding any information would be a criminal offence. The weasel still looks blank – why did Aoshi give up his position- but the old man nods slowly.

“I’m afraid we must refuse your offer. We thank you for your consideration, but the Oniwabanshuu are no longer. There are no more spies in this era of peace, Lt Fujita.” The old man calmly and clearly refuses and Saitou nods.

The weasel sputters for a while, “but money!” Saitou hears somewhere in there before the old man silences her with a heavy look. “You have much to learn Misao. Thank you, Saitou-san, for providing her with this learning experience.”

Saitou shrugs. “You can repay me by telling me everything you know about Aoshi.”

Okina’s warmth cools. “What do you want to know?” Saitou hears the guarded protectiveness. The weasel wisely stays silent.

“Everything. How you found him, how he was trained, et cetera.”

Okina’s gaze slides over to Misao, who looks at Okina with wide eyes. Saitou wonders how much she knows about Aoshi.

“Well, you might as well hear it too, Misao.” Okina sighs. “We found him wandering the streets, starving and lost. He couldn’t have been more than 2 years old.” Makimachi gasps. “We thought he was a little girl at first and one of our women couldn’t bear the thought of a little girl wandering around. Had we known he was a boy, he might not have been picked up.” Misao gasps again. “You have to understand Misao, back then there were many, many orphaned children. Most of the boys left to wander the streets, the girls were more often than not taken for worse things.

“So she brought him here. He was all skin and bones, his feet were badly cut and blistered from walking barefoot but he was otherwise unharmed. I still remember his kimono, it was a rich purple, but it was covered in filth and ripped, but it was surely expensive. He didn’t speak at first but he allowed us to clean his feet and he ate what we put in front of him. It was when the women took him to bathe that we found out he was a boy. He had long hair then, it fell past his shoulders and when it was clean it was the most beautiful shade of raven.” The old man smiles, reminiscent. “It’s darkened now, but it used to be the most stunning shade of greens and blues and purples when the light caught it just right.

“He didn’t speak for a few days, but he definitely understood us and what we asked him to do. He didn’t attach himself to any one person, rather he usually could be left to his own devices, only seeking company when he was hungry. Almost everyone tried to talk to him but no one succeeded. He was startled at first by all the combat training around him, he shied away at first, but after a while he started to watch our trainees. There was one trainee, who was average at best, unconfident and uninspired but who worked hard. He tried the hardest with the child and was the first to break through. He got a name out of him, but he said it didn’t sound like any name he’d ever heard of, but it sounded like Aoshi, and that was what we went with. The boy seemed to respond to it just fine.”

“So there’s the possibility he’s…” Saitou couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

“Yes. There’s the possibility that Aoshi’s not Japanese, or maybe not fully Japanese. He understood Japanese and proved he could speak it after much coaxing from the trainee.”

“That trainee, is he still around?” Saitou is intrigued now, perhaps the trainee knew more. The old man’s face twists in regret and sadness. 

“No. The trainee grew with Aoshi and he was unsurprised when Aoshi surpassed him easily. He continued to be important to Aoshi though. I’m not sure you know him, Saitou-san. We all knew him as Hannya.”

Misao gasps and her eyes widen and flood with tears. Saitou knows bits of the tale of the 4 Oniwaban and their Okashira. He knew of the masked man, the Okashira’s right hand man, he’d knew how the man had sacrificed himself for Himura and Aoshi. It’s almost no wonder Aoshi went manic after Kanryuu.

Saitou leans back and runs a hand over his hair.

“Aoshi was a brilliant child, once he spoke, he expressed his desire to learn anything and everything, and seeing his potential, our Okashira then deemed him worthy of the effort of training a young child. Aoshi was physically and intellectually gifted and as I mentioned, rapidly surpassed our other trainees who had been working tirelessly for far longer than he.

“The rest, you know.”

The weasel looked dumbfounded and heartbroken. “Hannya…”

“Hannya was more than just Aoshi’s right hand man. He was the closest thing Aoshi had to a friend. No. A brother.” Okina intones softly and Saitou sighs. The old man looks up sharply at that, and it’s easy for Saitou to see the sharp glint of protectiveness. “Still sure about getting serious with him?”

“I’m afraid that’s none of your business. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.” Saitou dismisses and begins to rise. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“HURT HIM AND YOU DIE YOU STUPID WOLF.” The kunai embed themselves a fraction of an inch from Saitou’s fingers on the wood of the door.

“Hai, hai.” Saitou waves her away again as he shuts the door and heads back down to the main courtyard. Aoshi is dusting off his knees and hands, a bag of weeds by his feet. He looks up at Saitou with an expression of pure zen and Saitou wants to laugh and roll his eyes and slap the man all at the same time.

“Is weed picking really that fun?” Saitou pulls out his cigarettes while Aoshi shifts the bag of weeds to a corner of the courtyard, next to Saitou.

“Aa.”

“Every time I think I’m getting somewhere with you…” Saitou sighs through cigarette smoke, before offering the stick to Aoshi.

“No, thank you.” Aoshi steps up to be on level with Saitou. It’s refreshing to be able to look at someone in the eye and Saitou reaches out a cigarette free hand to brush away a smear of dirt on Aoshi’s cheek. Kurojou pointedly turns away at that and Saitou smirks. “Come.”

Aoshi heads in the direction of what Saitou supposes (and hopes) is his room in the place. From across the compound Saitou hears the old man yelling something about not leaving them alone together and to leave the door open and Saitou sees Aoshi shut his eyes briefly in annoyance before reopening them.

“I certainly hope he’s not going to be like this forever.” Saitou muses as Aoshi slides open a door and ducks in. Saitou steps in without preamble and Aoshi pointedly shuts the door behind them.

“He’ll be like this till the day he dies.” Aoshi comes close to grumbling and Saitou snorts a laugh.

Aoshi’s room is as sparse as Saitou thought it would be. Aside from his twin blades in their single sheath, placed on what must be a custom made stand, Aoshi’s room is almost bare. He slides open his cupboards and Saitou spies his uniforms, a handful on yukata and a decent number of Western style shirts, some black, some white. As Aoshi packs his yukata and an extra uniform, Saitou pulls out one of the white shirts. He’s seen him in his black tops before, lord knows why he favours the western cuts, but the white shirt is a more traditional cut, with a pressed collar and two buttons at the cuffs. The material is soft and delicate and terribly thin, and Saitou really wants to see Aoshi in it. 

“Wear this.” He holds the garment out and Aoshi looks up through his bangs, one eyebrow quirked slightly.

“I’m not your doll.” Aoshi goes back to packing his things away, Saitou notices a roll of sheathed kunai gets packed in as well. The moment Aoshi has the roll tucked under other clothes Saitou crouches down right next to him, invading his space, Saitou’s chest just brushing the length of Aoshi’s left arm and side.

“If you really were my doll you’d be naked and laid out for me to play with already.” Saitou watches closely, for any signs of panic. Aoshi stiffens slightly, but merely shifts his gaze to look at Saitou lazily.

“Maybe someday I’ll let you.” Aoshi pecks a playful kiss to Saitou’s mouth and pulling away before Saitou can do much else. “But it’s not today. Put that back.”

“Shinomori.” Saitou says, still crouched next to Aoshi and holding the cloth. Aoshi turns to look at Saitou, eyebrows just millimetres higher and yet they manage to convey his surprise and amusement flawlessly.

“Are you whining?”

Saitou frowns. He supposes he is. He really wants to see Aoshi in the shirt. If only so he can take it off again.

“I suppose I do have to change anyway.” Aoshi says, so softly Saitou almost misses it. And if Saitou didn’t already know he was in too deep with the ninja, he’s sure of it now when internally he feels like a puppy who just got told he was about to be taken for a walk.

~*~

Saitou is not kidding when he thinks Shinomori is a work of art. They’re more or less the same height, but where Saitou is more or less evenly built all over, Aoshi’s height seems to mostly stem from legs that go on forever. Most of his width is in his shoulders, and yet he still manages to come across as almost delicate and gentle when he lets his shoulder slope down, gentling his entire figure. As Saitou trails his eyes down Aoshi’s shoulders and down the line of that back, he marvels at the tapering down to Aoshi’s waist. If it weren’t for Aoshi’s chest and shoulders, his waist could belong on any young woman. Saitou takes in the curve of Aoshi’s waist and wonders how such a man could have such a figure. His back and waist just serve to draw the eye down even lower. The ribbons of the man’s uniform certainly don’t help. The curves of his ass makes Saitou want to applaud the weasel for her restraint all these years. If Saitou had been given the burden of being infatuated over Aoshi for years, surely he would have given in long ago and at least got a feel in.

Saitou watches, feels himself harden slowly as Aoshi strips out of his uniform top. Alas, Aoshi insists on wearing his ridiculous collared undershirts, but Saitou still enjoys the bearing of his arms. Aoshi’s arms are corded differently from the likes of himself and Himura and it reminds him that Aoshi is a kempo fighter as well, maybe a kempo fighter first before he learnt swordsmanship. He’d love to learn the feeling of fighting Aoshi bare handed. He says so, and is rewarded with one of Aoshi’s newfound smiles. This one is self-assured and pleased and Saitou decides it’s a good look on him. Neither a smirk, nor a smile. It’s attractive.

Thankfully the undershirt is next to go and Saitou watches Aoshi’s back ripple and stretch as he folds both articles of clothing to put them away for washing. Ridiculous. He supposed he says it out loud, Aoshi lets out a small breath of laughter. Saitou takes a moment to trail his eyes over the multitude of scars that mar Aoshi’s back, and there are plenty. Of course, he is no stranger to scarring, but it’s always fascinating to see them on someone else’s skin. Someone else’s story. There are scars, nicks, welts, painting vivid pictures.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the soft slithering of cloth falling to the floor as Aoshi unwraps his obi and starts to slip his pants off. Just as the top of the cloth slips to reveal a loop of black cloth around Aoshi’s hip, Aoshi catches the material and tugs it back up, disappearing smooth, curving, pale skin. Saitou makes a sound of disgust low in his throat and Aoshi deigns to throw him a lazy glance. 

“Stop being a tease.” Saitou growls. He knows what he wants.

Aoshi rolls his gaze away deliberately slowly and Saitou wants to scowl and laugh at the same time. “Did you just roll your eyes at me Shinomori?”

“And what of it.” Aoshi says more than asks and Saitou barks a laugh.

“It’s as if you’re going through your rebellious teenage phase now. Oh my god, I’m the bad boy you’re going to elope with.” Saitou muses to himself, earning himself a breathy huff of a laugh.

It also earns him Aoshi in his underwear, full, tight globes of his ass cheeks in full view. Saitou has seen Western stone sculptures and even those pale in comparison to the curve of Aoshi's buttocks. He appreciates the unhampered view as Aoshi kneels to fold his pants and lay them with the rest of his laundry. Clearly he’s not bothered by nudity, Saitou can’t spot even a hint of red on his cheeks. As Aoshi turns to face him, Saitou is confronted with ugly scars on his thighs, raised keloids like the centre of a spider web, a puckered circle centred around a handful of keloid wisps that trail into nothing. There are two on his rights thigh, one on his left, and Saitou cannot help studying them. His mind supplies, bullet wounds, not treated and not healed well. Saitou shifts closer to where Aoshi is kneeling in front of him, taking in the studied calm which he can now tell is a front. He’s not embarrassed by his near nudity, he’s embarrassed by his scars. The ones on his thighs to be specific.

They are remarkable, no doubt about it. Most of his scars are elegant and almost lend to his statuesque beauty, even the faint welt across his chest from Himura’s Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki trails across him like a lover’s caress. The keloids on his thighs look admittedly grotesque compared to the rest of him. But Saitou wants to wipe that blank look off his face. He reaches out a hand, and meets Aoshi’s eyes in question. His resolve hardens when Aoshi’s gaze drifts just over Saitou’s shoulder and gives his permission with a minute shrug of his shoulders.

Saitou pauses to tug off his glove with his teeth, before reaching out again and drifting his fingertips over one of the keloids on Aoshi’s right thigh. The healed over skin is smooth, too smooth to the touch, and hard. Saitou traces his fingers over the knots of healed flesh and listens to Aoshi’s breath quicken. 

Saitou presses down, at the centre of the mass of knotted flesh, and sure enough, Aoshi makes an aborted sound of pain and his thigh muscles twitch under Saitou’s touch. He lets up immediately. “You’ll always hurt from these.”

“I know. It’s the same reason I don’t like guns and gunfire.” Aoshi’s eyes are still ducked away, and Saitou’s aware of how much trust the other man is putting in him.

“This was from Kanryuu.” Saitou covers the scars with his hands, some of the stray wisps still visible.

“Aa.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of them. They are ugly, but they show that you’ve survived. They are the mark of the honour of your men, your friends. For all that they mar you, your body and your soul, your flaws are what make you so much more perfect.”

Saitou is careful to massage the muscle surrounding the wounds. He knows the ache that can build up around and behind scars like these, and he feels the tension slowly slip out of Aoshi.

“Has anyone seen to these since you got them?” Saitou continues to massage, feeling the tightness of Aoshi’s muscles slowly loosen.

“No. I took of them the best I could after Kanryuu, they were healed like this by the time I allied with Shishio and faced Himura.” Aoshi admits.

“You’re an idiot.” Saitou lifts his hands to study the scars once more. “You should let a doctor look at them. See if they can do anything about the pain.”

“I doubt it.” Aoshi murmurs, and Saitou knows he’s most probably right. But he glares anyway. “But I’ll think about it.”

Saitou grunts before sighing. “Well, put that shirt on, like you promised.”

Aoshi’s eyes narrow. “I never promised anything.”

“Well you’re already naked, you need to get dressed, might as well just get it over and done with, right?” Saitou smiles lazily, holding up the garment for Aoshi to take. The onmitsu stares at him for a long moment before sighing softly and taking the shirt from Saitou.

Saitou watches as Aoshi slips it on, and he finds it just as arousing to watch Aoshi get dressed, as it is to watch him get undressed. He watches as the thin fabric slides on over skin just a few shades darker than itself. The material is thin and sheer enough that Saitou can just make out the planes of Aoshi’s body and the scars and marks that flow over them. He watches those stupidly lean and long fingers do up the buttons (a beautiful, off-white colour) all the way to the collar, and he can’t help reaching out and smoothing down the carefully pressed collar. Aoshi moves to button the cuffs, but Saitou intercepts him and takes over, buttoning the two tiny buttons on one side before doing the other.

He pulls back and just looks his fill. He never knew he liked western shirts. Or at least, he likes them on Aoshi. The material hugs his shoulders beautifully and clearly the shirt has been made to fit as it tapers down to skim Aoshi’s chest and waist perfectly.

“Did you have this tailored?” Saitou runs his hands down from Aoshi’s shouders to his chest, to cup his waist, enjoying the smooth slide of body-warmed material under his hands.

“I bought it and altered it myself.”

Saitou looks at him then, a little incredulous. “You’re a clothes horse aren’t you? You vain little shit.”

Aoshi looks offended, which is basically just a miniscule raising of his eyebrows but Saitou can read him now. “I like my clothes to not get in the way of my movements. The shirt as it was would have bunched and interfered with moving. It’s just more efficient this way.”

“No, you alter your clothes to fit your ridiculous body because you know you look good in it.” Saitou insists, teasing.

“And it makes movement efficient.” Aoshi teases right back, and Saitou still doesn’t know if Aoshi does it because it looks good or not. “Now may I get dressed so we can get going?”

“Wear your dark purple uniform.” Saitou suggests, sitting back into a lazy sprawl, watching again as Aoshi rises to retrieve the rest of his outfit. He ignores Aoshi’s pointed look in favour of looking pointedly at the neatly folded pile of midnight purple in Aoshi’s closet. He’s always wondered why Aoshi has shades of purple while the rest of the Oniwaban has shades of blue.

Saitou smirks, triumphant when Aoshi pulls the deep purple fabric from its shelf and slips the pants on. Saitou notices the last lingering vestige of tension leave Aoshi’s shoulders as he pulls the fabric up over his thighs, effectively covering the keloids.

Saitou watches appreciatively as Aoshi finished putting on his uniform and the deep purple makes a stunning contrast to the white of the shirt and the pale of Aoshi’s skin. The sleeves of his uniform are a tad longer than his usual, leaving just the cuffs of the white shirt visible. Saitou smiles approvingly and Aoshi huffs a soft breath of laughter. “You like?” Aoshi asks softly, in an echo to Saitou’s own words from before.

“Of course I fucking like it. Now I just want to take it all off of you, slowly.” Saitou drawls, trailing his eyes slowly across Aoshi’s frame. Aoshi just lets a corner of his mouth lift slightly in a smirk and pointedly looks at Saitou’s lap. “Might want to get that in control before we leave my room.”

Saitou snorts as he rises to his feet and adjusts the front of his pants to accommodate his semi. “You’re a fucking tease.” Saitou twines his fingers in Aoshi’s hair, marvelling at the way the dark strands catch the light, contrasting with the white of his glove and he draws the man close, showing Aoshi just how hungry he is with his lips teeth and tongue.

Saitou abandons his restraint. They’ve had plenty of chaste kisses, he wants to show this creature just how mad he drives him, how much he wants. He’ll show, but promises himself never to take. The former Okashira tastes vaguely of tea – as always- and Saitou delights at the equally enthusiastic response he is getting, their lips and teeth and tongues catching and clashing. He breathes into Aoshi’s mouth, and trails his lips down to graze sharp teeth gently over Aoshi’s jaw, his hand still fisted in raven hair. Saitou tugs, with enough force to expose Aoshi’s throat but without the grip so the man can pull away should he want to and he waits a fraction of a second, just to see if he will and when Aoshi’s eyes slide shut slowly, Saitou dips his head a little more, just enough to sink his teeth into the milky, unmarred skin on Aoshi’s neck. He feels himself grow harder at the feel of blood rushing, pulsing just beneath his teeth and lips, and he bites just enough to grip and starts to lick and suck to his heart’s content. He feels more than hears Aoshi’s shuddered breath and when Aoshi’s hands slide up to fist in the fabric of Saitou’s shirt instead of pushing him away, Saitou can’t help but smile and tug just a little harder on flesh underneath his mouth.

He’s rewarded with a gasp and a tiny sound of pleasure, which goes right to his dick. Fuck.

Saitou lets go, slides his hand to cup Aoshi’s neck and pulls back to admire his handiwork. There’s a reddish-purple mark just above the collar of Aoshi’s shirt and just under his jawline. It’s visible as the light of day and Saitou can’t help smiling to himself.

“You look even better now wearing this.” Saitou brushes his thumb over the mark, knowing full well how sensitive the bruised flesh will still be and sure enough Aoshi shudders, eyes fluttering, lashes fanning delicately over his cheeks and Saitou wants to mark him more, see his fingers blossom over Aoshi’s skin, over his collarbones, shoulders, back, hips, thighst, everywhere. He wants to watch this man find pleasure again.

Saitou just watches as Aoshi slowly recollects himself, hands letting go of Saitou’s uniform, the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down and gathers his pleasure into himself and draws his walls up around himself again. It’s just as marvellous to watch as when he physically dresses himself. To watch a man so collected and calm put himself together. Finally his eyes flick open once more and Saitou has the pleasure of watching his pupils constrict, completing the image of the strong, silent ninja everyone knows.

It makes Saitou so much more gleeful that he gets to be the one to watch Aoshi fall apart, to be the one who makes him fall apart.

“Shall we?” Saitou asks, smirk out in full force at how glaringly red hot his mark looks on this ice prince. Aoshi raises a delicate eyebrow in response and glances down again at Saitou’s now fully hard dick, pushing at the seam of his trousers.

“Eh.” Saitou shrugs and finally releases the hold he has on the curve of Aoshi’s neck. Let them see. Let them see how crazy this beautiful man drives him. How much he wants him. Let them remember their leader is beautiful, desirable.

Saitou lifts Aoshi’s small pack while Aoshi tugs on a pair of gloves that cover half his palm and all his fingers and on anyone other man it would look ridiculously delicate but on Aoshi it just looks elegant and striking. Saitou stares for a while, and Aoshi lets him look his fill, before Saitou turns and leads the way out of the door.

Sure enough, Saitou’s hard on wilts as they make their way to the front of the Aoiya, where Aoshi stops to tell Misao and Okina he’s leaving. Saitou watches the old man’s face cycle through some very interesting emotions as his eyea are fixed on Aoshi’s throat while Aoshi pointedly continues talking to them. The weasel is just completely red faced and can’t quite look at Aoshi or Saitou, much to Saitou’s amusement. Well, well.

Aoshi bows to them both and turns away to join Saitou at the door. Saitou’s amused to see both of Aoshi’s (informal) guardians still can’t gather themselves. And they call themselves onmitsu.

As they walk out, one of the female Oniwaban winks and tells them to have fun and Saitou almost laughs when the tips of Aoshi’s ears go red while the rest of his face doesn’t change at all. Instead he calls over his shoulder, “We’re going to have lots of fun.” And throws in a salacious wink for good measure.

She doesn’t disappoint, returning his wink with a foxy smile. He can only imagine what she thinks they’ll get up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to add, I know Misao's reactions maybe seem OOC and weird, but it's just my own response to having been or should I say being in a relationship like hers and Aoshi's. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that sometimes, as much as we want, some relationships just aren't meant to happen, not everyone gets the happy ending they want and sadly you have to accept it I suppose. I've made peace with my feelings, and I wanted Misao to have that peace too.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


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